A Promising Player
by WeasleySeeker
Summary: Angelina doesn't think she's up to the job of Captain. Oliver tries to convince her otherwise.


As the training session ended, the team arrived back at ground level and dismounted their brooms for what would be the final time that year. Oliver Wood sighed.

"Well...I guess that's it from me," he said sadly. "It's been wonderful working with all of you, I've had -"

"Oh, come on, Oliver," Fred moaned impatiently. "Save the emotional speech for after the match on Saturday."

Oliver laughed. "Fine. Just...remember everything I've said, yeah? Then we'll THRASH those Slytherins. It's my last chance, so we'd better win, or I'll never forgive you. Okay?" The team laughed, and Oliver looked round at them all fondly. He really was going to miss them. "I'm serious!" he told them, but really, whatever the result, he would be proud of them. "All right, go and get changed," he said, waving them off towards the changing rooms.

The team scurried off quickly, surprised that they had got away without a half-hour lecture. Oliver smirked, deciding to lengthen his post-match speech.

"Oi! Johnson!" he called after Angelina, who had run off with the rest of the team but was lingering behind slightly. "Not so fast! You're helping me with this," he told her, gesturing towards the large trunk where all the equipment was kept, which was lying at his feet.

"Fine. I'll catch you up," she said to Katie and Alicia, and then she scowled at Oliver. "Why me?" she complained, walking back towards him and picking up one handle.

Oliver shrugged. "Because you were the furthest behind," he said, lifting the other end and starting them walking towards the shed where it was kept.

Angelina rolled her eyes dramatically. "Just because you're not strong enough to carry it by yourself," she shot at him, sticking her tongue out. "What _will_ you do without me? You'll have to save a space for me at Puddlemere."

"Very funny," Oliver said dryly. "Only Hagrid would be able to carry this by himself. So shut up."

Angelina laughed. "Whatever. Not like Puddlemere would want me, anyway," she muttered to herself, but Oliver picked up on it.

"Hey, I wouldn't be so sure," he said thoughtfully, sizing her up. "You're a very promising player." Angelina snorted. "No, seriously," Oliver continued. "You're easily the best Chaser in the school, and you've still got two years left to improve!"

"You know you don't just have to say this stuff to make me feel better," Angelina said, rolling her eyes. "I'm not _that_ good."

Oliver shook his head exasperatedly. Why did girls always have to be so modest? "If you're good at something, there's no point in denying it," he told her. "You _are_. Look," he said, checking to make sure that nobody was around. "You're not supposed to know this, but McGonagall told me she's thinking of making you captain next year."

Angelina looked stunned. "Really?"

"Really."

She shook her head, dazed. "But I...I'm always messing around in training, I never take it seriously. And I know nothing about how to coach a team. I...I don't think I'm good enough, Oliver," she said slowly, insecurity surfacing on her face. "I can't take the responsibility."

Oliver looked at her sympathetically. "You know, that's exactly how I felt when I got given the job. Quidditch always meant so much to me, and I found it a daunting prospect that I'd be the one that had to not only train us, but transfer my enthusiasm to everyone else. But...it's one of the most rewarding things I've ever done in my life." He paused. "And as for not knowing how to coach a team...feel free to pester me with owls if you want any tips," he offered.

Angelina laughed. "Thanks," she said. "I'll think about it."

"Don't think," Oliver said immediately. "Just do it. You'll be wonderful."

She smiled. "Thanks, Oliver," she said again. "For everything. You've really brought out the best in me."

"Well, I do try," he told her modestly. "But you can save that until you've scored twenty fantastic goals against Slytherin on Saturday." Angelina laughed. "And also," he called, stopping her as she turned to walk back towards the changing rooms, "you really could make it as a professional Quidditch player. Think about it. I'd love to play alongside you again someday."

"Maybe," Angelina considered thoughtfully. "But it's the Harpies for me."

* * *

**A/N: For the Insecurity Competition on HPFC. I was given Angelina as a character, and came up with this little scenario. :)**

**Disclaimer: I am not J K Rowling. Unfortunately. Since I am completely broke at the moment ;)**


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